Finding a Way
by Enthusiastic Fish
Summary: Written for the NFA Making of McGee challenge. In Witness, Tim said that he always wanted to be in law enforcement. Why? Three chapters. One per day.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N:** Yes, I'm back to my favorite character again. This is a three chapter story written for the NFA Making of McGee Challenge. Why did Tim choose to become an NCIS Special Agent? We know from way back in _Witness_ in season 2 that it was something he had "always wanted". Why? When was this desire created? This is my interpretation, using my personal fanon...and a slightly different writing style.

**Disclaimer:** Recognizable characters belong to DPB. OCs are mine. I'm not making money off any of them, but I'd like the credit if you like the OCs. :)

* * *

**Finding a Way  
**by Enthusiastic Fish

**Chapter 1**

A figure slumped over in a chair. The brakes are locked.

_Click. Whrrrrrr._

_Beep!_

_Click. Whrrrrr._

_Beep!_

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

Tim didn't like it when his Grandpa McGee came over for a visit. Grandma? She was great, just like any grandma...but Grandpa? He loved his dad's father, but "the conversation" always happened and had ever since Tim had first revealed his nerdiness (he had balanced his dad's checkbook, adding up all the numbers in his head). Sam and Naomi might call it genius but to his grandfather, being devoted to school was nothing less than shameful in a McGee, particularly in the eldest (and only) son whose duty was to carry on the family name and uphold the family honor. Finding out that his eldest grandson was subject to seasickness was nothing short of a travesty and he would do his best to "cure" his grandson of this psychological weakness every time he came.

Sam was proud of Tim's abilities, but it took a while after he'd left the Navy to put aside his hope of Tim following in his footsteps. However, he couldn't deny that the year he'd been retired and working on his degree had improved his relationship with Tim immensely. He was actually getting to know his son and he found that he cherished the opportunity, glad that he hadn't missed out on it.

"Dad, you done yet?" Tim asked as he did every day at five p.m.

Sam looked up and smiled. He'd been working on his dissertation all day as usual.

"For the day...but you won't have time to read it. Your grandpa and grandma are coming."

"Which ones?"

"My parents." Sam didn't miss the shadow. "He does love you, Tim."

"Yeah, I know." Tim turned away.

"He'll realize that you're special, Tim."

"No, he won't. He'll never be anything but disappointed, Dad. We both know it. Grandpa wanted a tough guy for a grandson. What he got was a nerd. I can't even keep the bullies from beating me up at school."

Sam grabbed his son by the arm. "Tim, you're tougher than you think you are. I'm not disappointed."

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

_Click. Whrrrrrr._

_Beep!_

_Click. Whrrrrr._

_Beep!_

The figure stirred but didn't wake from his doze.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

"You're not?"

Sam shook his head and smiled. "No. Never."

"You were. Before we came here, before you left the Navy, you were."

Sam winced inwardly. One of the many things he had discovered about Tim (when he'd finally taken the time to do it) was how astute he was when he pulled his mind from the world of academics and looked at the world around him.

"I just didn't know you enough, Tim. I wasn't really looking."

"Why not?"

"The same reason Grandpa hasn't. I was seeing the world as I thought it _should_ be, not as it really was. I learned better. _You_ taught me better."

Tim was ten years old, but the look he gave Sam might have come from someone much older.

"How can I make Grandpa see? I want him to be proud of me."

"We'll figure something out, Tim...but you be like Oliver North."

Tim finally smiled. "What do you mean?"

"Do you know who Oliver North is?"

Tim shook his head. "He sounds kind of familiar. Was he in the news?"

"Yeah. Well, you may not want to emulate him in everything. He was in the Navy. He's made some pretty hefty mistakes, things he's gone to trial for, things that I don't approve of at all..."

"Then, why should I be like him?"

Sam chuckled. "In this one thing. He said, 'I am here to accept responsibility for that which I did. I will not accept responsibility for that which I did not do.'"

"I don't know if that really fits, Dad."

"Maybe you're right. You have done nothing wrong. Your grandfather doesn't understand that yet, but he will. You just hold strong to who you are. He'll come around."

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

_Click. Whrrrrr._

_Beep!_

Sam was startled out of his doze by a hand on his shoulder. He looked away from the hospital bed and met a pair of concerned blue eyes.

"How is he?" Gibbs asked.

Sam shook his head. "No one can say for sure yet. He was down for a long time, lost a lot of blood. That...that girl?"

Gibbs nodded. "He saved her life."

"Yeah. I knew he would."

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

"Where's my boy genius?"

"Here, Grandma!" Tim ran down the sidewalk.

"Oh, and here I was thinking of my son," she said grinning mischievously. "I guess a little boy genius will have to do." She hugged him tightly. "How have you been, Tim?"

"Great!"

"That a new shiner I see?"

Tim looked up at his grandfather. He was tall, a bit bent now, but he had kept himself in as good physical shape as was possible for a man pushing eighty. The hand that gripped Tim's chin was strong.

"Still getting teased are you?"

"Y-Yes, sir."

"You'll have to do better."

"I-I'll t-t-try, sir." Tim pulled back, took his grandmother's bag and ran into the house.

"You needn't treat him like it's his fault the bullies hurt him, Clifton."

"If they won't toughen him up, someone has to."

"He's ten years old! ...and he's your grandson. He could use more love and less 'toughening up'." She walked past him into the house.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

_Click. Whrrrrr._

_Beep!_

_Click. Whrrrr._

_Beep!_

Sam reached out and took one limp hand, holding it gently in his own.

"Where's Naomi?" Gibbs asked softly.

"I told her to get some sleep. I'll stay with Tim for a while longer."

"Did they tell you what happened?"

"Only that Tim was trying to save a woman from being killed."

"Yes."

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

The front door slammed as Tim ran out of the house.

"Dad, what did you say to Tim?" Sam asked. He had caught only a glimpse of Tim's face...but that was enough. He had seen the tears.

"You're too easy on that boy, Sam. This ascension of the ivory tower has made you soft."

"No, it's opened my eyes, Dad. Tim isn't like you. He isn't like me. He's...he's special."

"Special," Clifton harrumphed. "Your son gets picked on by everyone. He's too small. He doesn't do any sports. He told me he's not going to be a soldier when he grows up! He said he wants to be a writer!"

"There is nothing wrong with that, Dad. And Tim is ten! Last year, he wanted to be an astronomer. Next year, it might be something else. He has time to figure out what he wants to do without being put down by you." Sam turned to follow Tim, knowing exactly where he would have gone.

"Didn't hurt you, did it?"

Sam stopped. "Dad, do you know whose words I loved reading the most?"

"What?"

"I read everything I could about him. Mom gave me his biography for my birthday."

Clifton looked blank.

"I don't mind that you don't know, Dad. I know you love me, but _I_ want the chance to know what interests my son. I'm not going to force him into something he doesn't want." Then, he turned and walked out of the house.

He jogged down the sidewalk toward the park. The bigger kids wouldn't be there right now and that meant that Tim could swing without being tormented for it. Sure enough, he was there, although not swinging.

"Hey, Tim."

"He hates me, Dad. Grandpa hates me."

"No, he doesn't. There is nothing wrong with you."

"Grandpa says there is. He said that I'm not going to be a real man if I don't..."

"Tim, your grandfather is wrong."

"But he's your dad!"

Sam sat down on the swing beside Tim. "Yes, and my father makes mistakes just like everyone else."

Tim sniffed and looked down. "He said that tears are a sign of weakness."

"There's nothing wrong with tears."

"I like school. Why doesn't he like that?"

"Tim, who am I writing my dissertation on?"

"Lots of people."

"But there's someone I'm focusing on."

"Winston Churchill."

"Exactly. Do you remember who he is?"

"Sure. He was in charge of England during World War II. He said funny things."

"Yes. One thing he said was, 'Personally, I am always ready to learn, although I do not always like being taught.' Even the great wartime leader was ready to learn. You _love_ to learn, Tim. That's a strength, not a weakness."

"Why do you always quote things now? You didn't used to."

Sam smiled. "I think I've found my true calling, Tim."

"What's that?"

"To make sure that the wonderful words spoken by people in history are not forgotten."

"But you told me that Emerson hated quotations."

"What did Emerson know?"

"Quite a bit, didn't he?"

Sam pulled the chain of the swing so that Tim was close enough for him to put his arm around his shoulders. "Let me tell you, Tim. There's a reason I love Winston Churchill so much. I found one of his quotations and it meant something to me."

"What was it?"

"'It is a good thing for an uneducated man to read books of quotations. Bartlett's Familiar Quotations is an admirable work, and I studied it intently. The quotations when engraved upon the memory give you good thoughts. They also make you anxious to read the authors and look for more.' If Churchill can think that, who am I to argue? I will try to sink these quotations into my students' heads and make them want more. If I can do that, I'll be happy. It wasn't what I wanted before, but now...now, it is."

"I thought you always wanted to be in the Navy. You never acted like you wanted to leave, not even when you had to leave."

"I didn't, but since then, I've seen what I really want. That's what you need to do, Tim. Find what you want. Don't listen to Grandpa if he tries to tell you that what you want isn't good enough. He'll come around eventually."

"I just want him to be proud of me...like he's proud of you."

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

_Click. Whrrrr._

_Beep!_

"Who was she?" Sam asked, looking back at his son, lying so quietly, the only noise was that emanating from the machines keeping him alive.

"A witness. An unwilling accomplice to murder who got in too deep and tried to pull out before she...drowned."

Sam swallowed at the metaphor. Tim's wounds couldn't be seen. They were either swathed in bandages, hidden beneath the blankets...or internal.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

"You know, Sam, Tim has to be way above grade level in all his subjects."

Sam smiled. "I know, Mom. The teachers sometimes have to scramble to find things for him to do."

"He's in the GT program at school and his teacher has had him help some of the slower kids in finishing their work. It gives him something to look forward to."

"Have you thought about bumping him up a grade or two? He could easily do the work."

Sam and Naomi exchanged glances.

"We've...thought about it," Sam allowed.

"But you don't want to?"

Naomi sighed. "Tim has such a hard time relating with kids his own age. Putting him further along seems like a bad idea right now."

"You know...not all teachers will be as accomodating as his teacher has been this year."

"I know, but we can help him move along."

"Actually, Mom, we've been considering moving him up when I finish my Ph.D. and move wherever I get a job. His age difference would be less obvious if he wasn't already in a group."

"But he'd also be dealing with being new _and_ being smart."

"Mo-om! Sarah's getting into my books again! I can't get her to leave me alone!"

Naomi laughed and stood up. "Excuse me for a moment while I keep my son from killing his sister."

She walked out and Sam looked at his mother.

"Mom, will Dad _ever_ let up on Tim?"

She sighed. "I wish he would. That's a special little boy you have there. But Cliff was so disappointed when you were discharged."

"Well, so was I, if it comes to that...but does he do the same thing to Jim's kids or Marilyn's?"

"No, but you're the oldest, Sam. Tim is the oldest grandson. It's the McGee tradition and as distasteful as you find it, it's what he expects. Your father doesn't like to change."

"I'm not going to force Tim into the Navy just to uphold the family tradition."

"Nor should you. Tim isn't meant for the Navy. He's not that kind of boy. He's probably going to end up an academic like you."

Sam chuckled, thinking of the long and twisted road he'd followed to academia. "I'm not so sure, Mom. Tim's different...always has been. I still remember what his first word was. Not Dad or Mom like most kids. He said, 'Look!' and tried to show me something he'd found. I think Tim's going to surprise us all. ...but he's so sensitive and he knows that Dad is disappointed in him."

"He'll have to find his own way...and he will. Right now, you just let him be a kid. That's more important."


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2**

_Click. Whrrrrr._

_Beep!_

A nurse came in and checked on Tim's vitals. She didn't stay long but noted all the details on the chart and left as quietly as she had come.

"What exactly happened, Agent Gibbs?" Sam asked. If it weren't for the emptiness in his face, Tim could be sleeping...but he wasn't. A large patch of his hair had been shaved off when his brain had started to swell. The doctors had scrambled. It had been touch and go for a while, but Tim had rallied well.

"McGee was part of the protection duty. They were staying in a hotel. Things went bad...fast. Tony was holding them off while McGee got the witness out. We underestimated them. They had more people waiting downstairs, covering every exit."

_Click. Whrrrrr._

_Beep!_

Sam sat in silence, staring at his son, his brave, wonderful son...who was now so very weakened. Gibbs seemed unable to finish the story.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

Tim walked slowly to the park, hoping that no one would be there this time. He hadn't liked all the moving they'd done when his dad was still in the Navy, but at least the kids on base had understood what it was like. He'd never been bullied there...not like here anyway. ...and Grandpa hadn't been nearly so mean to him when Dad was doing what he wanted.

Tim hadn't ever told his parents the exact circumstances of his most recent black eye. They had asked but he hadn't told them. Yes, it _was_ the bullies again, but it wasn't that they had been bullying _him_. One of the kids he helped in class was more of a target than he was...and they were nastier to him than they were even to Tim...and that really bothered Tim because Jeff was disabled and slow. He didn't understand why they hurt him, why they teased him...well, Tim didn't get it either but he understood it better than Jeff could. It wasn't right they should pick on him; so Tim tried to intervene whenever Jeff was the target. Sometimes, just standing up to them was enough; sometimes they were just looking for an excuse to beat Tim up. He wasn't strong. He was small, scrawny and had the definite air of a geek. In fact, they creamed him every time, but when they did, they left Jeff alone...and Jeff had begun following Tim around during recess, simply because Tim was his ineffectual protector.

Tim allowed it, even though Jeff wasn't great company, but he always told Jeff that he had to keep the fights a secret. Sam and Naomi had told him not to fight in school, not to stoop to the level of the bullies. He didn't want to get in trouble for that. If he had ever _won_ one of those fights, he might have told Grandpa...but he hadn't. He was too much of a weakling. That was why he'd never told _anyone_ what he really wanted to be when he grew up. He knew he couldn't do it. _Everyone_ would know that he couldn't do it.

It didn't stop him from dreaming, though.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

_Click. Whrrrr._

_Beep!_

_Click. Whrrrrr._

_Beep!_

"McGee was trying to get her out any way he could." Gibbs sighed. "She told us that he pulled her into the pool area, and they ran for the emergency exit there. She slipped on the tiles and fell into the pool. Tim was trying to get her out when they found them."

Sam closed his eyes, the scene playing out in front of him.

"I never wanted this for Tim, you know...but it was his dream." Sam smiled sadly. "'Nothing happens unless first a dream.'"

"Carl Sandburg."

Sam nodded.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

Some days, he would close his eyes and try to see himself doing it, living his dream. He never could. It was only when he slept that he had a chance. In real life, he was a wuss.

"Tim! Tim! They're coming!"

A small, bent figure rushed over to the swings and hid behind him.

"Jeff, it's Saturday. We don't have school today."

"They followed me! They won't leave me alone."

Tim sighed, stood and put an arm around Jeff's shoulders.

"Come on. Let's go."

"Aren't you going to fight them?"

"No. I don't want to fight them. I just want them to leave you alone. Let's go."

Tim urged Jeff to stand and they began to walk out of the park.

They were ambushed just before they got to the sidewalk.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

"McGee was trying to get her out of the pool, but she panicked. It wasn't deep, but she freaked out."

_Click. Whrrrrr._

"_Come on, Sherry! Come on! Let's go! It's going to be okay!"_

"_Help! Help! I can't get out, Tim! They're going to kill me!"_

_Beep!_

"They came in, started firing. McGee fired back, took two of them down before they got him."

Sam winced.

_Click. "Stay down! Don't move, Sherry!" Whrrrrr._

"_Don't let them kill me!"_

_Beep!_

"He was shot twice and fell into the pool. The witness grabbed his gun and started shooting at them. She held them off until Tony got downstairs and backup arrived." Gibbs took another breath. "By then..."

"Tim was in the pool," Sam said softly.

"Yeah."

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

"Timmy, you sure you're okay?"

Tim winced but put his arm around Jeff's shoulders.

"I'm fine, Jeff. You all right?"

"I'm...fine...mostly. Does it...always hurt when they hit you?"

"Yeah."

"Really?"

"Yeah." Tim limped a little. They had knocked him down really hard this time and his knees hurt. It was going to be a long walk to Jeff's house and then back to his own.

"I'm so...sorry...Timmy. I..."

"It's okay, Jeff. Don't worry. It'll be fine in a couple of days."

"You're so brave!" Jeff wound his stunted arms around Tim's waist. "You're so strong! Thank you, Tim!"

"Jeff, they beat me up."

"Yeah...and you...didn't let them hurt me."

"They did hurt you. Allen got you in the nose."

"Only once."

"Tim, what's going on?"

Tim froze mid-stride. He had completely forgotten that they would be walking by his house in order to get to Jeff's house.

"I'm just taking Jeff home, Dad. He gets lost sometimes, you know."

Jeff smiled at Sam. "Timmy saved me again!"

"Jeff!" Tim warned, but it was too late.

"Again? What do you mean, Jeff?"

"Timmy...I'm sorry...I forgot."

"It's okay, Jeff."

"Here, Jeff, I'll take you the rest of the way home. Tim, you go inside." His face was solemn.

Tim went into the house...but the first person he saw was not his mother as he had hoped, but his grandfather.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

"How long?"

"I don't know."

"How long, Agent Gibbs? How long was Tim in the water?"

_Click. Whrrrrr._

"_Probie? Probie! Come on, man. Don't do this, McGee!"_

"_Is he dead? Please, don't let him be dead!"_

"_McGee!"_

_Beep!_

"I really don't know. I only got there...too late. And then we had to... protect the witness as soon as the paramedics got there."

_Click. Whrrrrr._

_Beep!_

Sam looked away from Tim...to the window. "'There is no grief like the grief that does not speak.' Longfellow." He closed his eyes and let the tears fall.

_Click. Whrrrr._

_Beep!_

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

"Again? Tim, you can't expect to get anywhere in the world if you keep letting people walk all over you. It makes you weak."

Humiliated, Tim looked down at his feet. His pants had holes in them. Mom would be mad about that.

"Maybe it's best that you do something else. You couldn't hack it in the Navy."

Tim closed his eyes, trying to hold back the hurt tears.

"I was j-j-just trying to h-h-help m-my f-friend," he whispered.

"What was that? Speak up, boy!"

"Clifton, stop it," Naomi said. "Tim, what happened?"

"J-Just the bullies again, Mom," Tim mumbled. "I wasn't strong enough."

"Figured."

"Clifton, you..." Naomi took a deep breath and regained control. "Come on, Tim. Let's get you cleaned up."

"I'm sorry I ruined my pants, Mom," Tim said quietly.

"That's okay. Maybe I can patch them up. We'll see."

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

_Click. Whrrrrr._

"_Breathe, McGee! Breathe!"_

"_He was trying to save me. I fell into the pool."_

_Beep!_

The door opened slowly. Naomi came and sat down. She said nothing. Instead, she closed her eyes and cried, leaning on Sam as she gently caressed her son's face.

"Did you sleep?" Sam asked.

She shook her head.

"I wish I could say something to help," Gibbs said into the silence.

Naomi sat up and looked at Gibbs. "Did you catch them?"

"Yes."

"All of them?"

"We don't know yet. The major players at least."

"And this...this woman he saved?"

"She's going to testify. McGee seems to have given her even more determination to see them go down."

Naomi smiled. "Tim has that effect on the people he protects. He always has."

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

Naomi took Tim into the laundry room, set him down on an upside-down laundry hamper and began to tend to his wounds. The jeans were bad. She sighed.

"I think we're going to have to simply cut them off and let them be your shorts, Tim."

"I'm sorry."

"It's okay. Tell me what happened."

"It just the bullies again. In the park."

"It wasn't _just_ the bullies."

Tim looked up and saw his father's face...but he couldn't read the expression, not this time.

"What do you mean, Sam?"

"I've just been talking to Jeff's mother."

"Jeff? The boy with Martin-Bell Syndrome?"

"Yes. Tim, why didn't you tell us what was going on?"

Tim hung his head in shame.

"What?" Naomi asked. "What, Tim?"

Sam walked over and knelt down beside Tim.

"Tim has been trying to keep the bullies from teasing and hurting Jeff. That's why he's been getting hurt more lately."

"What?"

"He d-d-doesn't understand, Mom! He just wants to be safe. I tried...but I can't f-f-fight them off! I'm too weak."

Naomi looked at Tim, looked at Sam, and then pulled Tim to her and hugged him tightly.

"Oh, Tim. Why didn't you tell us?"

"You said I'm not supposed to fight...but they don't listen to me when I t-t-talked to them. I didn't want to get in trouble."

"For trying to help someone else? You don't get in trouble for that, Tim. My brave boy."

"I wanted to help, but I don't ever win. They just beat me up and leave Jeff alone."

Sam put his arms around Tim, as well. "Tim, I'm proud of you."

"Really?"

"Yes. You're helping Jeff more than you know. His mother was nearly crying when she thanked me. Jeff told me he wants to be just like you when he grows up."

Tim laughed a little. "He's my age, Dad."

"You are his hero, Tim. To him, you can do no wrong...which means that you need to make sure you earn his devotion. Don't take advantage of it."

"I wouldn't do that! I want to..." Tim stopped.

"What, Tim?"

"Never mind. I'm not good enough to do it."

"You're good enough to do anything you want to, Tim. What is it?"

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

_Click. Whrrrr._

_Beep!_

"I just wish that was enough...enough to save him. I've seen that look on doctors' faces before. They don't think he's going to wake up." Naomi's crumpled and all her stoicism dissolved in the face of that horrible possibility.

Sam hugged her tightly. "'In all things it is better to hope than to despair.' Goethe."

"It's already been three days...and he's just the same."

Gibbs sat awkwardly, not wanting to interrupt this...but wanting to just the same.

"Excuse me," he said softly.

"Yes, Agent Gibbs?"

"Some of his friends, the people he works with...they were hoping to see him, to talk to him. Would you mind?"

_Click. Whrrrrr._

_Beep!_

"Oh...no, Agent Gibbs," Naomi said, swallowing her tears. "No, we wouldn't mind. Let them come. In fact, Sam, you need to get to bed."

Gibbs noticed that while the notion was obviously distasteful to him, Sam didn't argue at all. He just nodded.

"Yes. You're right. The last thing we need is for something to happen to me as well."

"I'll take Sam back to the hotel. You can let Tim's friends come in and talk to him. He'd like that." She nodded quickly and then followed Sam as he reluctantly wheeled himself out of the room.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

"Tim?"

Another person was watching the little scene, unbeknownst to any of them. His wife was playing with her granddaughter in the other room. The others were oblivious to anything else.

"I..." Tim looked down. "I...want to be a detective...and prove that you didn't do anything wrong, Dad!" The words came out in a rush. "I want to prove that...that you were trying your best and you didn't really mess up even though they blamed you!"

Sam sat back on his heels. "Tim..."

"I heard you talking...with...with Mom when you were in the hospital after the accident. They were wrong when they said it was your fault! I wanted...to...to show them that you weren't wrong, that you were trying to save everyone, that...but..." Tim's eyes filled with tears. "But I can't even fight off the bullies. I can't do anything like that. You have to be strong to...to be a detective, just like in the books." He looked up at Sam. "I...I wanted to make it better for you...so that you could go back! They'd have to take you if they knew that you were a hero! Because you are!"

Sam blinked back his own tears. "Tim..." He held out his arms and Tim hurtled into them.

"I'm sorry, Dad. I'm not strong enough."

"Tim, I...I don't know what to say. You..." He looked at Naomi almost helplessly. She knelt down on the floor, too.

"Tim, your father doesn't _want_ to go back to the Navy...and the injuries he suffered make it impossible anyway."

"But it's wrong! It's not fair! It's not justice! You said that they wanted a scapegoat...and you're not!"

"Tim, it doesn't matter. I wouldn't trade being with my family for all the military honors in the world."

"Really?"

"Really...and do you know something else?"

"What?"

Sam pushed Tim back from his embrace and looked him straight in the eye.

"Don't you ever let anyone tell you that you're not strong enough, Tim. If you want to be a detective, you will be the best detective in the world because I can't think of another person who is as strong as you are right now."

"You're strong. Grandpa's strong. Lots stronger than me."

"There are lots of different kinds of strength, Tim. More important that having big muscles, is having a strong heart, a strong soul. You _are _strong, Tim. Even if you can't beat up the bullies, you are stronger than they are...much, much stronger. You don't give up."

"Then...then, why doesn't Grandpa think I'm strong?"


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter 3**

_Click. Whrrrr._

_Beep!_

Tony stood awkwardly in the doorway. The room was dimly lit, the ventilator clicking and hissing, the heart monitor tracking Tim's slow heartbeat. He was so...so very still.

_The water in the pool was red when Tony pulled him out. The wounds still gushing blood that stained the tiles red as well._

"_Oh, please, no."_

_Click. Whrrrr._

_Beep!_

"Hey, McGee." He swallowed and took a couple of steps into the room.

"Sherry wanted me to tell you hello and that she's praying for you. I...I think you have a new fan."

_Click. Whrrrr._

_Beep!_

"You need to wake up, McGee. Preferably before your hair grows back. I want to be able to tease you about your bald patch."

Silence, broken only by the machinery.

"I'm so sorry, man. I tried to get down there. I really did. It seemed to take forever...and I'm sorry."

_Click. Whrrrr._

_Beep!_

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

"Because..." Naomi stopped before she could let the uncensored words out of her mouth.

"Because your grandfather is a cantankerous old fool," Clifton said gruffly and walked into the laundry room. "I'll save your parents the trouble of lying to you, Tim."

"Dad, you don't..."

"Shut up, Sam," Clifton said, not meanly. "You were thinking it. Might as well say it. It's true after all...and you don't want to lie to your kid."

Tim looked at Clifton warily.

"I'm too old to change, but I can admit when I'm wrong. What you did to help that other boy took guts. Not many would put up with that day after day. You did good."

"But I lost, Grandpa."

"So? We lost lots of battles...doesn't mean we lost the war."

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

"Tim, it's so hard to see you like this."

_Click. Whrrrr._

_Beep!_

"I mean, they won't even let dogs into the hospital and Jethro misses you!" Abby forced herself to laugh.

_Click. Whrrrr._

_Beep!_

Abby sat in uncharacteristic silence for a few minutes.

"You need to wake up, Tim. We need you back. I miss you." Mascara streaked down her cheeks. "The doctors keep trying to prepare us for the worst, but I know you. You won't be satisfied with being typical. You've got to surprise everyone. So...you need to wake up...so we can be surprised!"

_Click. Whrrrr._

_Beep!_

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

"Grandpa?"

"What, Tim?"

"Do you...do you love me?"

"Yeah, I do."

"Can I give you a hug?"

Finally, the stern expression softened. "Yes."

Tim walked hesitantly over to his grandpa, so large, so imposing...so uncompromising in what he thought was right. He paused for a moment and then...then, he hugged his grandfather tightly. He was only barely tall enough to put his arms around Clifton's waist, but that was enough. After another moment, Clifton put his arms around his grandson for about the first time in three years.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

"I wish that I had been there, McGee."

_Click. Whrrrr._

_Beep!_

"But I was not. You did an excellent job, McGee." Ziva looked down at her hands. "I...I could not have done better."

She said nothing else.

_Click. Whrrrr._

_Beep!_

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

It was night and Tim was in bed, staring at the ceiling, listening to Sarah fussing in her crib through the wall. She just was _not_ a good sleeper.

So...Grandpa really did love him. He hadn't thought it possible...and it made the aches and pains from his fight today fade into unimportance.

His door creaked open and he rolled over, expecting to see one of his parents...or maybe Grandma, coming to do her special brand of tucking in. He loved it when she came in to tuck him in. It was an elaborate ritual which usually took the form of about ten minutes of covering him in blankets, losing him in the blankets, searching for him in the blankets, tucking the blankets around him so tightly that he couldn't move...followed by the real tucking in and a kiss good night.

It wasn't Grandma. It was Grandpa.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

"I've always wondered if people can hear when they're like this. When my grandpa died, he was in a coma for a while...but he seemed to hear us. It's one of those things that you can never be sure of...so I guess we just talk to talk."

_Click. Whrrrr._

_Beep!_

Jimmy took off his glasses and cleaned them...needlessly. They were already clean.

"It doesn't seem fair. Why is it that the good guys are the ones to go down like this?"

Jimmy was a med student. He sometimes felt like he'd been in med school for centuries. He was nearing the end now. In addition to working with Ducky, he was an intern at Washington Hospital Center. He knew how iffy Tim's status was...and the longer he stayed out, the less chance there was of him _ever_ waking up.

It wasn't fair.

_Click. Whrrrr._

_Beep!_

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

"Hey, Tim."

"Hi, Grandpa."

"I wanted to talk to you about something."

"What?" Tim sat up in bed, still a bit nervous. He really didn't want to have "the conversation" again.

"You know what the McGee family tradition is."

Tim hung his head. "I can't go into the Navy, Grandpa. I'm not strong enough for that."

"That's what I want to talk to you about."

Tim, ever sensitive to nuance, even if he didn't really understand it, looked up.

"What?"

"Did you know that the Navy has its own police, its own investigators?"

"Really?"

"Yeah. It's called NIS, the Naval Investigative Service."

"Wow. Cool. I didn't know that."

"Their job is to investigate crimes in the Navy. You could do that, Tim."

Tim looked hopeful for a second but then shook his head. "I get seasick."

Clifton laughed. "Yes, you do, but you don't have to be in the Navy to be a part of NIS."

"I don't?"

"No."

"Would that...make you proud of me?"

"You do something in the Navy, Tim, you work to keep those in the Navy safe, that would make me very proud."

He patted Tim awkwardly on the shoulder and then walked out of the room.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

_Click. Whrrrr._

_Beep!_

"_What happened?" Ducky asked, aghast at Tony's bloody clothing._

"_McGee got shot. They don't know if he's going to make it." Tony got the words out but no more than that. He sank to his chair._

"_Oh, no. Where?"_

"_I don't know...I don't know. He wasn't..." Tony hid his head. "He wasn't breathing, Ducky. I couldn't get him to breathe."_

Ducky stood quietly staring at Tim wondering, in the way people do, if it would have been a greater kindness for Tim to have died. When..._if_ he woke up, would his brain have been oxygen-starved for too long? Would he be paralyzed? Or worse, would his mind be ruined? At this moment, however, there was only one thing he really wanted.

"Timothy, please come back. Please, wake up. Rejoin the land of the living."

_Click. Whrrrr._

_Beep!_

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

The McGees moved to Ohio when Tim was twelve, after Sam got a job at the university in Athens. It had put them closer to his parents and Sam loved being a professor. Even Clifton had admitted (grudgingly) that it seemed to be where he was meant to be.

Tim and his grandfather had never really meshed. Clifton had never understood Tim's devotion to school and it galled him that his grandson was the kind of person targeted by bullies, for even in Ohio, Tim had been bullied. The school had encouraged Sam and Naomi to boost Tim up to a higher grade after giving him IQ tests. Academically, Tim was excelling. Socially, he was not.

...but they had one thing that kept their relationship alive. Tim's increasing desire to be a part of NIS. It was a bond between them even as Sam and Naomi hid their misgivings about their son being a cop...of any kind.

Tim was fifteen when his Grandpa McGee passed away, a heart attack so sudden that they hadn't even had time to call for an ambulance before he died. The funeral was packed with his old military buddies. Tim stood quietly, holding Sarah's hand (she was, for a wonder, being quiet) as people talked about the kind of person he was. It was like they were talking about a stranger. It wasn't the man Tim had gotten to know.

Grandpa was the one who had reluctantly changed his expectations and been willing to appreciate Tim for what he _could_ do, not berate him for what he couldn't. That, more than anything else, was what Tim would remember about him.

If for no other reason than to keep his promise, Tim knew exactly where he'd end up. Eventually, he'd be in NCIS.

For Grandpa. To make him proud.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

_Click. Whrrrr._

_Beep!_

_Click. Whrrrr._

_Beep!_

Quiet. Still. People sitting silently. There are no more words to say. They were spoken days ago. Now. Now they're waiting.

_Click. Whrrrr._

_Beep!_

Movement. Not much, but something.

"Tim?"

His eyelids flutter. Nothing more.

"Tim." Closer and closer.

He opens his eyes, expending all the energy he doesn't have. The beeping sounds have increased.

_Click._

_Beep!_

_Whrrrr._

_Beep!_

He tries to move his hands. Too heavy. He tries to speak. Something in his throat.

"It's all right, Tim. Stay with us."

His lips shape a word. _Mom._

"Yes, Tim. I'm here."

Others are there as well. He can sense them.

People come in. The tube in his throat is removed. He breathes on his own for the first time in three weeks.

He thinks that this is all very strange.

It takes a long time but he manages to think of something to say. Forcing the air through his vocal cords is difficult and all he can manage is a whisper.

"What happened?" he asks, eyes on the one who will know, the one who can tell him.

"You got shot...and nearly drowned, McGee."

He sighs and closes his eyes again.

"You saved her."

His eyes open. He asks the question without speaking. Someone else answers.

"You did, Probie. You saved her. She's going to testify. She said she wants to take them all down...because of you."

He smiles, almost in disbelief.

"We're so proud of you, Tim. You just need to get better now."

"I'll do my best," he whispers.

"Your best is enough. That's all we ask."

He sees his dad crying.

"Don't...cry. 'm okay." He manages to lift one of his leaden hands up toward his father's face.

"'Weeping endureth for a night, but joy cometh in the morning.' At least, that's what the psalmist said."

He smiles again.

"Grandpa...proud?"

"Your grandfather would be the proudest man in the world...except for me."

He smiles...and sleeps.

FINIS!


End file.
